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money man - blow you away lyrics

[intro]
mario
oh lord, jetson made another one

[chorus: money man]
i hop in the coupe and i’m whippin’ it fast
i’m on the way to go get me a bag
b-tch, i’m the p-ssenger, you know she bad
she got my exes all angry and mad
they belong in a barrel, these n-gg-s be crabs
run off with a pack and get shot in the -ss
we in the trap, we don’t listen to jazz
that n-gg- too soft, i ain’t tryna collab
three different flavors, come purchase some bud
download my tape, i might show you some love
too many plays, i can’t go to the club
too many plays, i can’t drop me an alb-m
i don’t sell zips, you gotta buy volume
when i light up my blunt, this sh-t turn down the volume
come shop with me, you can get a good value
freshest alive, you should pay me to style you

[verse 1: money man]
she not a horse but she look like a stallion
questioning sh-t, you just kept the medallion
sewed up the hood, n-gg-s heavily banging
come with that rocket ship, n-gg-s is dying
bit on my face so i look like a lion
she backin’ up on my d-ck and she grinding
give me two million or i’m never signing
all the designer, i should be a stylist
that ho you cuff, she got too much mileage
i’m on the plane with the pack in the private
i’m burning on loud, n-gg-, far from quiet
everybody got sticks, n-gg-, why would you try it?
my money be nephilim, that sh-t be giant
i don’t wanna conversate, i want v-g-n-
i build me a b-tch like we a science
i grow my own food, i’m self-reliant
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
push up on me, i’ma blow you away
treat a ho like a pistol and throw her away
the pack came late, it had to delay
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
she s-xy as h-ll, she bad as f-ck
she know my ex-b-tch mad as f-ck
i bust down a bale and bag it up
beep, beep, beep, beep
just like a truck, she back it up
these n-gg-s used to laugh at us
now they wanna make songs and rap with us
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
i grab me a pound and bag it up
heard your lil’ song, it’s wack as f-ck
i get them racks and stack ’em up

[verse 2: yung mal]
i got racks, i keep racks, i got racks, racks, racks
i keep young n-gg-s with me and they keep straps, that’s no cap
i’m with money man, i got rubber bands and they bustin’ out my pants
flight to miami, when i land i got gunners, they got sticks in hand
hot just like a sauna, man
never leave my brother, sh-t get ugly, i can’t take the stand
i ain’t talkin’ on the phone, you want a p, you know the fee
wrist cold like the sea, eskimo, 1017
my son got gucci c-rs-at, my b-tch in love with birkin b
i’m the boss, they work for me
they say talk is cheap, but if i’m talkin’, ain’t talkin’ cheap
my whole hood bettin’ on me
i got racks on me, i keep racks on me
n-gg- wanna know the rest, then b-tch, get in your bag

[chorus: money man]
i hop in the coupe and i’m whippin’ it fast
i’m on the way to go get me a bag
b-tch, i’m the p-ssenger, you know she bad
she got my exes all angry and mad
they belong in a barrel, these n-gg-s be crabs
run off with a pack and get shot in the -ss
we in the trap, we don’t listen to jazz
that n-gg- too soft, i ain’t tryna collab
three different flavors, come purchase some bud
download my tape, i might show you some love
too many plays, i can’t go to the club
too many plays, i can’t drop me an alb-m
i don’t sell zips, you gotta buy volume
when i light up my blunt, this sh-t turn down volume
come shop with me, you can get a good value
freshest alive, you should pay me to style you

- money man lyrics

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